


Moving Without Getting Any Closer

by UniversallyEcho



Series: hookups the elite writers forgot to mention [2]
Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But also, Canon Compliant, Enemies with benefits?, F/F, the pool party, the scene as it was meant to happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25334725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversallyEcho/pseuds/UniversallyEcho
Summary: “What,” she plays dumb, “can’t I just talk to a friend?”Rebeka looks down on her through the top of tacky yellow sunglasses and adds with a hint of derision, “Considering the way you look like you want to kill yourself for referring to me as your friend just now, I’m inclined to think that there might be a play at ulterior motives here.”Lu smiles sweetly, sugary and artificial, like the rose flavoured lip gloss generously coated across her mouth. She blinks upwards, in the same way she remembers used to make Guzman weak when she blew him, and she wonders faintly whether the same tricks will work with Rebeka too.Or; the pool party but with the correct ending this time
Relationships: Rebeca "Rebe" de Bormujo Ávalos/Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich
Series: hookups the elite writers forgot to mention [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834852
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Moving Without Getting Any Closer

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from the song "Chasing Fire" by Lauv because it captures what I wish these two were feelings for each other and how I imagine things would have gone without the Elite's writers evident disdain for wlw romance.
> 
> yes i changed the title, yes it used to be "Last Night Was The Last Time", yes i hate that song now, so what, not all of us can be as decisive as Lu and Rebeka, okay?

Lu supposes that she should, by now, know better than this. 

For one, she should have stopped drinking by her second gin and tonic. Or at the very least after her fourth. Definitely though, the incoming orders to the waiter should have been cut off after Nadia offered her half the scholarship to New York, and she accepted. They weren’t. 

She has a somewhat ornate plan, she has a semi-bountiful source of money, she has a future. The ever-increasingly tightening string cutting into the protective tissue of her heart, the same string that had her pulled in a million directions since she was old enough to walk, the same string she has tried, unsuccessfully, to cut off her wrists now since she was old enough to talk, should be easing up by now. It isn’t.

She should be happy at the prospect of leaving, at the prospect of getting a fresh start and doing it autonomously. She’s not.

She should be a lot of things. 

She almost never is. 

She’s learned that gin typically does the trick to rectify that, it doesn’t tonight though. She finds it fitting that even the alcohol she drinks is a failure, she’s always known that she rots everything she touches, this isn’t any different.

Lu lets her head hang back against the wood straw chair, the smooth breeze of wind making its way across her face and into the loose strands of her hair, like the universe is trying to calm her agitated spirit. She smiles at that, it's ridiculous how reassuring it is to think that at least someone, or something in this case, is on her side.

Okay, so clearly the alcohol is working at least a little. 

Lu sits up a little straighter at that, knowing that a nauseous wave will come over her if she doesn’t try to sober up soon and she absolutely can not risk losing the last pair of pumps she bought with daddy’s money, right before he cut her off, by vomiting all over them. Those kinds of stains never come out. She would know. 

She tries to quell her dizzying queasiness by looking around the backyard, watching the people she had always seen in passing in her classes, at her parties, even some of them in her bed, _her metaphorical bed not her actual bed, god help her if she ever let any of these losers in her house, a club bathroom or abandoned classroom works well enough for bottom tier level orgasms anyway,_ and realizes grimly that she doesn’t even know half of their names. 

Realistically, she recognizes that she doesn’t actually want to, recognizes that this impending feeling of remorse or resentment or whatever is just a cataclysmic combination of knocking back gin and tonics like they’re unoffending shots of vodka and the kind of mind-numbing, hairspray evaporating humidity that comes with changing seasons. It’s just, peering out to the crowd, watching most of them make fools of themselves dancing or chattering excitedly in their own little cliques, she can’t help thinking, a little trivially, that she kind of spoiled her senior year. 

Lu sighs. She’s not supposed to be this nostalgic, at least not until she actually graduates. Then again, she has always been an overachiever, it makes sense for her to start early. 

Her eyes narrow and she snaps out of her pensive state when she spots Valerio walking away from an exceedingly gutted Carla, and because even tipsy she's receptive, her solicitous signals go off. 

Lu unconsciously catalogues the slicked back hair and smoked eyeshadow and mermaid sequin cover up. Classic, pretty, if not a little lackluster. Representative of her personality lately, Lu reflects, a little harshly. Maybe if Carla had actually answered Lu’s calls this morning, she could have voiced her gratuitous advice and they could have come up with enchantingly hot matching sets that even Cher and Dionne would be proud of, her being Dionne _obviously_. But she didn’t. So here they are.

Lu knows when someone is strategically dodging her, she basically invented the game, so if Carla wants to render herself obscure behind the facade of a cheery relationship and a healthy family life, distancing herself from anyone with the ability to see right through her bullshit, then fine, Lu would just have to be discreet about her hovering concern.

Carla could pretend all she wanted that Lu was materialistic and shallow and inherently selfish, and, honestly, maybe she was but that doesn’t change the fact that her and Carla have been friends longer than animal print and slingback heels have been in style. 

Lu spent more time curating a back to school wardrobe for the two of them freshman year of high school than she did on actual school work that year, Carla has more text messages in her phone from late night consultations Lu seeked out regarding relationships than she has of any other number combined. In fact, Lu very distinctly remembers the stern never-ending speech she got from her dad when he looked at their phone bill that one summer Carla’s parents dragged her to the Maldives. They’ve survived an entire juice cleanse together for fuck’s sake, friendship like that doesn’t just wither away.

Seeing Carla standing there, looking as lost and fragile as a gazelle during hunting season, is alarming enough. Seeing Rebeka’s gaze fixed on her, even from far away, is enough to have Lu uncoordinatedly getting up and interrupting the pathway before anything can happen.

Absolutely not, she would not let Narco Barbie get anywhere near Carla when she already looks seconds away from collapsing right there on the patio. 

God, can no one at this fucking school just have one chill, drama free, day? She desperately hopes New York is a little less filled with drawn out glances and enigmatic words and people she has to continuously save from themselves. It’s getting a little exhausting. 

“Rebeka! Looking good,” Lu almost winces at how fake the words sound coming out of her own mouth. She should have gone with an insult, that would’ve been more natural but she’s too far in to not be committed now, so she walks closer to the tall girl and gives her a look over, searching for literally anything to comment on, “very athletic chic, a little too athletic for my taste but it doesn’t look terrible on you!”

What the fuck happened to her? She used to be so much better at lying. She blames it on the gin.

Rebeka seems just as confused apparently by her choice of introduction, or maybe just by the interaction in general because she furrows her eyebrows a little and answers, “Uh, hey?”

“Hi,” Lu repeats, because she didn’t think through what her plan would be after that opening line. 

Rebeka tilts her head a little in confusion, following her words, and Lu, despite herself, can’t help but find it a little amusing. Her mannerisms this afternoon seem so contrasting to the scrappy thug image she normally so loudly reminds everyone about in class.

Rebeka moves to walk past her and in the direction she was looking at earlier, her beachwear ( _robe? overcoat? what is it and why does it exist?_ ) trailing behind her and Lu has to be extra careful of her steps to not trip into it as she briskly walks in front of her.

“Where are you going?” She asks a bit obnoxiously, because she realizes that it’s in her best interest to just exasperate Rebeka into leaving the party, and has to bite back a smirk when Rebeka grimaces at the high pitched sound of her voice. 

“What do you want?” Rebeka asks directly. God, it’s like there’s no pretenses with this girl, like Rebeka reads through the proper etiquette and social regulations manual and then purposefully goes out of her way to ignore each one of them. Lu would find it impressive if it wasn’t just infuriatingly obnoxious. 

“What,” she plays dumb, “can’t I just talk to a friend?”

Rebeka looks down on her through the top of tacky yellow sunglasses and adds with a hint of derision, “Considering the way you look like you want to kill yourself for referring to me as your friend just now, I’m inclined to think that there might be a play at ulterior motives here.”

Lu smiles sweetly, sugary and artificial, like the rose flavoured lip gloss generously coated across her mouth. She blinks upwards, in the same way she remembers used to make Guzman weak when she blew him, and she wonders faintly whether the same tricks will work with Rebeka too. 

Rebeka glares at her, knowing fully well what Lu’s up to and Lu has to try, a little harder than she expected to, to not feel disappointed by that.

The last time they did this, this, like that acts as any notion of value to explain what it is that’s happening between them, she was too numbed in her own feelings of heartbreak and betrayal to really think through her actions. Right now, even slightly intoxicated, she’s too aware of her surroundings, of how she’s holding herself, of what she sounds like, of what others expect of her and how she’s not complying to any of those requirements. _She could really go for another gin and tonic right now._

“Okay, whatever,” Rebeka scoffs. She olls her eyes, crossing her arms over her upper abdomen, right under her chest and Lu is made infinitely more aware of the low neckline of her monstrously distasteful hot pink bikini top and Lu, Lu’s faith that she was going to win this, conversation—argument—thing, flounders, a tiny bit.

Rebeka’s posture is tense and on the defense but she’s rocking back on her heels ever so slightly, almost like she’s nervous and that’s unexpected enough that Lu doesn’t feel completely foolish for wanting to follow her inside to the bar. So she does. 

Rebeka glances back at her when they reach the bar and asks sarcastically, “Please tell me you’re not going to just shadow me for the rest of the night.”

Lu holds her gaze, “You should be grateful you have me as company. You looked like a total loser spending the party alone.

“Right, because I’d much prefer the company of someone who is the literal human depiction of one of those fluffy snappish, high-maintenance purse dogs that never stop barking.”

Lu inwardly counts to five. Rebeka orders a drink and leans back against the counter. Lu smiles at the sense of deja-vu. She’s so predictable. It shouldn’t comfort Lu, shouldn’t make her feel grounded and less like her life is spiraling out of her control. It does.

The last time they did this was exhilarating, it was distracting and it was absent minded and it was so so easy, like they weren’t even trying, and they weren’t, not really, they were both so tired of trying every day only to be knocked down time and time again so instead they just did what they wanted. They chased for their own pleasure, and they fucked selfishly and intensely and neither of them felt bad for rushing the other or for pulling or directing the other because under the dark lights of a bedroom that didn’t feel like home to either of them, they could move freely without worrying what it would mean outside those terms. The act itself felt like a big fuck you to the world who kept bringing them down. 

This isn’t like the last time. 

This time there’s no costumes or characters or pretending their actions are a result of their situation and not just the desire that’s been bubbling under their skin for longer than they’d like to admit.

This time is a conclusion of sorts. A kind of finality that Lu craves from the lack of normality she’s faced the entire year. 

Not to mention that she hasn’t fucked in a while and Lu is starting to realize that the peculiarly eccentric mishap of outfits she’s judged Rebeka so harshly for wearing to school really never did Rebeka’s abs justice. So. That’s the metaphorical cherry on top of the metaphorical cake. 

Lu watches as the condensation of Rebeka’s swiftly emptying drink melts onto her skin and trails down her forearm. She swallows and resists the urge to lick it up right there in front of everyone. Instead, she hums, flicking her tongue over the ridge of her teeth.

It’s then that Rebeka surges up from her place and leans in dangerously close to Lu’s ear. A huff of air chiling it’s way from her ear to her neck to her collarbone as she whispers, “You’ve stayed at this house a lot before, right?”

“Yeah,” her head swims a little when Rebeka places a hand against her hip tightly, “Why?”

She doesn’t understand how Rebeka still manages to keep her tone so light when she suggests, “Well, in case there was a chance two people wanted to get away, to _talk_ , you’d know the best place to do that?”

When Lu turns to face her she’s caught off guard by the slow way in which Rebeka’s lazily tracing over her. Eyes traveling down from the swells of her breast to the junction where her waist cuts off and her legs begin and she can feel an invigoratingly lethal edge with which Rebeka outlines the gold chain hanging from her one piece and moves a finger to hook onto it.

It’s the furthest thing from smart for them to do this now, when the entirety of the school is at this party and the atmosphere of the place feels heavily like they’re reaching an apex of the conflict with Polo. Especially since she needs to go and check in on Carla to make sure the girl hasn’t drunk herself to death and she also needs to start scheduling preparation to feel even remotely comfortable with the newly confirmed impending date of moving to New York. 

The mere fact that just seconds ago she had to stop Rebeka from doing what she’s sure would have been a regrettable decision should give Lu warning enough that neither of them are in a good mindset. Rebeka’s still looking at her, eyes hooded and lustful. She pulls on the gold jewelry. And hey, it’s not like Lu’s ever been particularly good at listening to warning signs anyway, what’s one more? 

“Yes.”

Lu guides them to one of the guest rooms she knows will stay undisturbed for the day and the rush of power she feels at pulling on Rebeka’s hand, at being the one to control the situation, fuels her reasoning to go on with it.

She sarcastically motions for Rebeka to walk ahead of her inside and then turns to lock the door behind them.

As soon as she does Rebeka pulls her close and twists one hand in her hair, kissing her roughly before backing them up until Lu’s spine hits the door with only Rebeka’s other hand to cushion the blow. Lu snickers a little at the enthusiasm, pulls back looking at her knowingly before taunting, “Is this how you do your talking?”

Rebeka huffs then, pulling apart and moving against the headboard of the bed, “Didn’t you do enough actual talking with Nadia?”

Lu’s forehead creases in a frown, “Of course she told you about that.”

She knows about their friendship, and it’s reasonable for Nadia to have wanted to discuss with someone who has her best interest in mind about such an impactful judgement before acting on it. That doesn’t change the fact that it’s humiliating to need a handout like that and then have people know about it though.

Rebeka must notice the change in her features because she prods cunningly, “What, scared you won’t be dominating the New York scene like you kept bragging about?” 

Lu rolls her eyes. No, that’s not what she’s scared of, she thinks things would be easier if it was. If she was terrified of not making it, of not triumphing like people expect her to. Maybe if her worries were that frivolous than she would feel better about herself, more secure in who she was. Her fears can’t be quelled that easily with encouraging words or a path of succession, no, her fears ran deeper than surface levels. She isn’t scared about not making it, she’s fearful of the person she’ll be when she inevitably does.

But she can’t say so to Rebeka, not when she’s barely able to admit it to herself.

Instead she decides on a vague response, a response that’s maybe still a little too honest and sincere for their situation but she figures it’s ambiguous enough to not feel revealing.

She musters up her most vain expression and states, “It’s normal to be wary about new things, that doesn’t mean I won’t succeed at it.”

Rebeka chuckles at that, and nods in mock understanding as she pulls Lu closer so that she’s sitting on top with her legs on either side of her. Lu thinks she notices Rebeka’s gaze flicker with something like surprise or maybe a little interest but she’s not familiar enough with her or her face to parse out the nuance of it. She catches herself longing, if only for a very brief, very stupid moment, that she was. Maybe then Lu would know what she was thinking of her. 

Not that it matters. It _doesn’t_ matter. 

And then, because she has to snap herself out of this new delirious state of wistful wanting, if even for a second, she adds, “Besides, nothing I do could be unsuccessful. New York has no idea what’s hitting them, my Mexican blood is superior in every sense of the word.”

A helpless half-smile tilts from the corners of Rebeka’s mouth, “You’re not even being ironic when you say that, are you?”

Intolerably eyeing her, she retorts, “Irony is for commoners.”

“Commoners,” Rebeka repeats exasperated. 

She clenches her jaw and bites her lip to keep from bursting out in mirthful laughter which, Lu thinks, is actually very inconsiderate of her. It accentuates her cheekbones and sharpens her features just enough to shift from her standard general prettiness to something far more striking and more vivid and less approachable. Lu likes it. Lu dislikes how much she likes it. 

If she didn’t know better she’d think her sudden breathlessness was from her newfound position, looking straight into Rebeka’s emerald eyes and her sharp nose and her plump lips. Noticing things about her that she thinks she must be the first person to realize, because otherwise someone else would have already told her about it, like the way her eyes imitate a fox in the cutting way they follow a edged line to her eyebrows or how she has the slightest, pale freckles dotting the bridge of her face. 

But, she does know better, so she knows that it's just the alcohol and heat talking here, obviously.

“You’re right,” she asserts, her words are brisk and bleak and lighter than she expects them to be on her tongue, “I think we’ve done enough talking”

“That’s good,” Rebeka says, her fingers drifting under the top rim of Lu’s swimsuit, barely grazing at her skin. Lu’s lashes flutter as Rebeka continues, “I was starting to get bored.”

She kisses her then, open-mouthed and sloppy and demanding.

Lu shudders as Rebeka pulls off her only covering layer, letting the red and polka-dotted item fall to their side, Lu swaying forward at the hasty movement. Rebeka doesn’t bother catching her, instead lets her fall onto her chest and fastens her hold on Lu’s hip to hold her in place.

Lu reaches out and as revenge rakes her nails down to the front of the other girl’s bikini, and smirks when she jerks forward, grinding against her hand. 

Lu presses her face into Rebeka’s sweat slick skin and smiles when Rebeka busies herself with biting gently on her shoulder while tugging down at the already low neckline of her swimsuit. She tries to say something snarky about multitasking or maybe about how this is their second sexcapade and they haven’t ever been to dinner together but Rebeka already has her suit three quarters down her body and then she’s marking her way down Lu and it’s an accomplishment that Lu can even remember to breathe because it’s so good and it’s been so long that she essentially loses focus of everything but the grazing sting of Rebeka’s teeth and the insistent pulsing thud of her heartbeat or maybe of Rebeka’s heartbeat with the way they’re so close to one another.

She squirms impatiently, the pressure building within her becoming unbearable, the teasing and faint touches not satisfying her the way she wants them to, she needs Rebeka to _do_ something. She whines a little desperately, “Hurry up.”

Rebeka inhales sharply and grabs her to turn them around until Lu has her hands pressed into the bed and above her and Rebeka orders into her collarbone, “Then stop moving.”

Lu’s brain stutters at that and she wastes a solid five seconds thinking about how she’s so glad Rebeka never used that raspy low tone with her when they were in school because she doesn’t even want to imagine the mortifying reaction she would’ve had literally melting at her voice. 

“I’ll stop moving when you do something worth not moving for,” she says, breathless, because there’s no way in hell she’s going to let Rebeka know how much that affected her. 

Rebeka presses her cheek into the curve of Lu’s breast and glances at her, eyes fiery and hair askew. She challenges, “Oh yeah?”

Lu grins cannily, “Think you can manage that?” 

Rebeka’s only reply is to nip harder and grip tighter and grab rougher and suck harder until Lu doesn’t have any more complaints, until Lu _can’t_ have any more complaints because she’s too busy trying to restrain herself from moaning too loudly.

Rebeka’s intense in a way that Lu hadn’t bothered to look into more when they first met. Intense in a way not so different from herself. It’s similar enough for them to butt heads and contrasts so that they don’t understand each other but can’t help but be fascinated by those discrepancies. Rebeka’s also soothing in a way that Lu thinks is only possible when you’re raised far far away from the lifestyles of those in Las Encinas. She anchors Lu without suffocating her and Lu thinks that might be the most astonishing thing of all.

They don’t fit together very well at first. Both of them are too desperate and their actions sloppy and needy and neither of them are very good at compromising. Their teeth clash as they battle for dominance. And they switch positions too many times to be considered functional or comfortable but then Rebeka will dig her nails into Lu’s thighs or Lu will tug a fistful of her hair while trailing her tongue on her neck and they’ll both let escape a noise straying on the boundary between pleasure and pain. In sync.

There’s a faint pulse of energy flickering up and down the notches of her spine and her heart beats so loud she thinks she can’t even hear it anymore if that’s even a thing, it definitely feels like a thing, and she hadn’t realized how acutely and deeply this want consumes her until she’s falling apart with a moan only muffled by the taste of Rebeka’s lips. 

Afterwards she feels wrung out, like if she could she would never move again, but there’s also a sense of awkwardness now that there’s no more urgency for them to chase, no blistering tension to distract themselves from the fact that they don’t actually get along very well. 

She clears her throat.

Rebeka passes Lu her clothes from the ground and Lu gently zips Rebeka’s bikini top back up when they face each other. Lu then can’t help but to collapse onto the bed and Rebeka chuckles before getting up.

Lu feels overwhelmingly warm and she’s still breathing in short spouts of air rather than long smooth ones. She feels like she might have whiplash. She’s not entirely sure of what just happened. 

She looks to Rebeka, who’s now standing in front of a mirror and futilely attempting to straighten herself up. The curls of her ponytail have almost completely fallen out and her neon pink lipstick is disorderly smeared across her lips. It’s inconceivable that she pulls off looking smug when they make eye contact in the reflection as she says, “I don’t know why we haven’t talked like that more often, pretty sure most of our arguments would have ended a lot quicker than they did.”

Lu offers her a sly, sardonic grin in response. It’s more than she gives most.

When Lu finally finds the energy in her to get up, she joins the party outside and tries to pretend nothing happened. When Guzman gives her a suspicious look and shakes his head at her curiously before wiping a streak of fuschia lipstick from her neck, she tells him she must have been more drunk than she initially expected and knocked into something.

And when she walks to her shared dorm about a year and a half later, returning from classes in the afternoon, and accidentally walks in on Nadia video chatting a certain tall brunette with an astute stare and soft wavy hair, she blames her relentless inquisitive nature for eavesdropping on the rest of the discussion.

Lu shouldn’t be pleased when Rebeka reveals she doesn’t have plans for the evening and Nadia apologetically informs her she has an essay due the next day but that Lu would probably be free to go clubbing with her. She shouldn’t be giddy when Rebeka accepts eagerly and says she can’t wait for them to _talk_ and catch up.

She really really shouldn’t be. 

She is.

**Author's Note:**

> another lu/rebe missing moment/missing sex scene because apparently that is all i can write.
> 
> I have a tumblr (theuniversezecho) for those still struggling to come to terms with the fact that season 4 is going to be a disaster and needs to complain about it with someone.


End file.
